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“He have a connection to broken bones?”
“His sisters.”
The way Tom said it piqued her interest. “What happened to his sisters?”
“He had two—one older, one younger. When he was seven, his parents were out, the kids were being watched by a girl down the street; she was seventeen. She invited her boyfriend over as soon as the parents left, basically left the kids to fend for themselves. An hour later, she hears a massive crash and finds four-year-old Helena at the bottom of the stairs. Harley was up top, claimed his sister tripped and fell.”
“How badly was Helena hurt?” Chloe asked, sure she already knew the answer.
“Broken bones in both arms, both legs, a fracture in her skull, and broke her T1 vertebrae.”
“She was left a paraplegic.”
“She never said that her brother pushed her, but if he is the killer, then it’s a reasonable conclusion.”
“What about the other sister?”
“She fell off a cliff. She died.”
“He pushed her.”
“If he’s our killer, then yes, most likely.”
“He realized he needed to push them off something higher to break more bones,” she said softly. The man was a sociopath. He didn't care about his victims. All he cared about was himself and what he wanted.
“Neither Pete nor Harley are married, so that would make it easier for them to keep a live victim for years at a time. Both have homes that are in the general vicinity where Taylor came from. Both fit the general description Taylor gave us.”
“Both have a connection to broken bones, both have the privacy needed to commit the crimes. Harley Zabkar has the intelligence to pull this off, to keep the girls, to hurt them, and to leave behind no physical evidence. Pete Larkin has the financial resources needed to purchase the equipment Taylor told us about. So, which one is it?”
“What’s your gut telling you?” Tom asked.
Chloe didn't even need to consider this, she knew which direction her gut was pointing her.
*****
11:37 A.M.
Chloe hoped she was right about this.
She hadn’t quite gotten to the point yet where she trusted her gut. She trusted it to tell her if something wasn't right and danger might be lurking close by, but she wasn't confident that it was competent enough to point her in the right direction. With time she was sure it would come, but lately, her self-confidence had taken a beating. Between the accident, losing the baby, and now Fin, she was doubting herself and her ability to know what the right thing to do was. But she would get through this, just like she had gotten through everything else life had thrown at her. And one day, she hoped she would be a great agent who was able to use every tool at her disposal including her gut instincts.
“Why do criminals always live in such normal looking houses?” she asked as Tom pulled up in front of a small brick colonial. The yard was a little overgrown but not excessively. There was no garage, and the driveway sat empty. It didn't looklike Harley Zabkar was home.
“You think they should live in caves or dilapidated castles or something?” Tom asked with a small smirk.
“It would certainly make things easier,” she quipped. “We could just drive around and stop off at all the caves and dilapidated castles and pick them all up.”
Her partner chuckled. “You’re right—our job would be a breeze.”
“This house is small and close to neighbors,” she said, feeling a little dejected. She had wanted to be right about Harley Zabkar, but this didn't look like the kind of house where you could keep a young woman prisoner for years at a time. Surely someone would hear something, especially since they knew that he tortured his victims and broke their bones. There would no doubt be screaming, and neighbors would hear that.
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t him,” Tom reminded her. “He could be our killer and keep his victims at another location.”
“We didn't find any other property in his name.”
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any. Sometimes things aren’t always as they seem.” The second time in as many days that someone had said that to her. She knew that. But sometimes thingswereas they seemed.
“He’s not here,” she said as they climbed out of the car. It was just beginning to snow, and Chloe wished she could put her reindeer beanie on. To keep up her Christmas clothing quota, she was wearing her candy cane striped socks. They were thick and fuzzy and kept her usually cold feet toasty warm even on the iciest of winter days.
